Fragments of Time
by spacer-42
Summary: A series of oneshots based on the 100 Themes Challenge. Will mostly be Ratchet- and/or Clank-centric, though other characters may appear in later chapters. Set at different points in the series. Latest prompt: 9. Drive.
1. Introduction

Disclaimer: Ratchet and Clank and all related characters, locations, and concepts belong to Insomniac Games. All other ideas and characters are my own. I am not a lawyer.

Author's Note:

This is a series of oneshots based on the 100 Themes Challenge; I am using a list of prompts that may be found on DeviantArt. There will be spoilers for the Future trilogy, and possibly for the comic series and All 4 One as well. Spoilers for the PS2 games should be expected, though I don't know if they still qualify as 'spoilers.'

Reviews and constructive criticism are always appreciated!

Chapter summary: A veteran war bot watches as a mysterious duo saves the day. Spoilers for _Tools of Destruction._

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><p>1. Introduction<p>

An incendiary shot whizzed by my head, nearly scorching my paint.

This was not good. Not good at all.

I hovered down the pedway, dodging blasts from above. It was imperative to find a safe location to hide. Drophyds were invading. I was not as oiled as I had once been, and furthermore, I was unarmed. If the invaders were to attack me, I would have no means to defend myself. Back in the day, my commanding officer would've had my disks wiped for such an offence. Times have changed since then, but not enough. I looked around, optics darting, searching... ah, there!

I spotted an alcove. An entryway with a lip just large enough to shelter me from the chaos. A few robots and organics lingered there, watching the havoc. Fighting my instincts, I darted to the alcove and hid inside. I knew that I was too old for battle, but part of me still yearned to jump into the fray. Old habits die hard.

After having taken a minute to clock down my processors, I peeked out to take a look at the carnage.

Robots and organics alike buzzed about, desperate to get to a safe area. The face of our so-called "emperor", Percival Tachyon, was plastered on every vid-screen in the vicinity. There was even one near my hiding spot. He ranted on and on about how we were all supposed to keep on the lookout for a certain Lombax. The way I saw it, Tachyon was probably much more of a criminal than that Lombax could ever be.

After a robot cracked the Decryptor that kept the door closed, I ushered a few of the more vulnerable bots and organics into the building. They were probably worth more to society than an old, retired war bot. I knew that shelter wouldn't help much if the Drophyds started infiltrating the buildings. Still, it was something. I closed the door behind the last organic and then took up a position outside, in front of it.

If I couldn't enter the fray, I could at least keep a lookout. I went through the possible scenarios in my head, one by one. If a Drophyd tried to enter the building through this door, I could stall it, and maybe give everyone else a chance to get away. Unfortunately, I couldn't see any of the other entrances. The Drophyds could enter thorough another door, and then kill everyone inside without me noticing. I contemplated entering the building, or, against my better judgement, leaving my alcove and going around to see if there were any entrances that were more vulnerable.

I was almost ready to go out into the fray, but then, _they_ arrived.

A powerful explosion signalled their entrance. I ducked out of the way of a large piece of shrapnel, which embedded itself into the wall behind me.

Despite the reasoning that should have been programmed into me, I didn't hide. This looked too good to miss. I watched as a single, fiery blast cut through the crowd of Drophyds. Where a bunch of them had stood, only the charred remains of broken exoskeletons remained. The Drophyds, with their protective bubbles shattered, flopped on the ground.

Through the smoke that billowed out as a result, I caught a glimpse of a small figure; yellow-furred, and long-eared. I couldn't see much more, but I could still hear what went on.

The remaining Drophyds made for good cannon fodder; the Lombax quickly took them down. Though I still couldn't really see anything through the smoke, I recognized the weapons he used by the sounds they made. That grinding rasp could only come from Buzz Blades. A series of explosions indicated the presence of what was probably a Negotiator. At one point, I couldn't believe what was happening until the smoke cleared a bit and then I saw it with my own eyes. No, my sound processor wasn't deceiving me: the Lombax had a RYNO. Mark IV, no less. I watched as he took out two transport ships and a cyclocannon before the smoke rose up again.

Finally, the din stopped. As the smoke finally cleared, my optical receptors picked up more details. The organic wore a flight suit of some sort; orange and blue, with a harness strapped across his chest. His long, yellow ears were striped with brown, and he wore gloves, with a matching brown leather helmet. He stowed away his gun in favour of an Omniwrench.

The organic—a Lombax, I realized—walked up to one of the downed Drophyds. The fishlike creature flopped about in the shattered life-support compartment of its suit, to no avail. A small robot, which I had not noticed before, hopped down from the Lombax's back. He seemed a bit more cautious, hanging back as the Lombax bent down to address the wide-eyed Drophyd.

"So," the Lombax said. "Thought you'd come and try to blow up this planet, huh? Kill a few innocent civilians, while you're at it?"

The Drophyd flailed, but was unable to do anything else; its speech synthesizer had been destroyed along with its suit.

The Lombax laughed once; a short, sarcastic guffaw.

"Yeah, I know, orders are orders. Been there, done that."

He tapped his chin thoughtfully as the Drophyd blinked.

"Well, you can go tell your commander, _Percival_ Tachyon, that I won't stand for any of this. I'm not gonna let him go around and murder innocent people, be they robot, organic, whatever. This can't happen."

The organic straightened up.

"Oh, and if he asks who tried to stop you guys, then go ahead and tell him. I'm Ratchet. This here," he motioned to the robot, "is Clank. But you can be sure that if this goes on, we'll be just one thing: your worst nightmare. That's a promise."

The Lombax turned around, beckoning to his friend. "Come on, Clank. Let's save this galaxy."

They made their way to their spaceship. It had been parked close to where I was.

"That was quite melodramatic," Clank commented. "I do not know if keeping such a promise is possible."

"Well," Ratchet said, "we've already tried being subtle. It didn't really work. Maybe Tachyon will get the message, this time."

"I suppose that we will have to wait and see."

Clank hopped into the ship, and Ratchet followed.

"We've saved planets and galaxies before," the Lombax said. "How hard can it be?"

The rest of their conversation was cut off as they hopped into the ship and the cockpit closed. I watched as they took off, wondering whether they were going to keep that promise.

As I learned later, they did.


	2. Love

Disclaimer: Ratchet and Clank and all related characters, locations, and concepts belong to Insomniac Games. All other ideas and characters are my own. I am not a lawyer.

Author's Note:

With a prompt like this, people usually write their favourite ship. I'm not too much of a shipper, so I've left it a bit more open-ended. This one has a lot of introspection in it. I like trying to get into characters' heads.

Once again, reviews are appreciated!

Chapter summary: Ratchet contemplates his past romantic relationships. Set sometime after _A Crack in Time_; may contain spoilers for it and all prior games.

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><p>2. Love<p>

Ratchet had never had much luck with romance.

Despite all the travelling he did, he rarely encountered any potential partners. Most of the people he encountered were either trying to kill him or sell him something. Sometimes both. Saving the universe made it hard for him to settle down. He could blame the lifestyle.

During his childhood on Veldin, there hadn't been anybody worth a mention. He had dated a few girls, but never for very long, mostly because of 'interspecies issues'. The price of independence—setting up his own garage—had been leaving school, his one constant source of female interaction. The classes on Veldin hadn't been good for much else, though, and he had been running short on money anyway.

Then, Clank had come along, and he had been thrown headfirst into a series of adventures with ever-growing stakes. He had soon realized that saving the universe and finding romance didn't really mix. Ratchet could count the number of potential girlfriends that he had encountered since the start of their adventures on one hand.

Firstly, there had been Angela. She was also a Lombax. Despite this, nothing had really started between them. Angela was older than him, and had seen him as a bit of a kid. They had been friends, but then they had gone their separate ways. For a time, he had thought that she was dead. The people on the radio said that she was actually still alive. Maybe he could find her and join up with her later. Maybe she would help him find the Lombaxes. Still, he had a feeling that she wouldn't ever be interested in him in _that_ way.

Then, there had been Sasha. Their relationship had been good, while it had lasted. She was pretty, funny, and smart, too. They got along well. Ratchet and Sasha had spent a lot of time playing vidgames and discussing weapons. Still, after they were forced to separate, they realized that a long-distance relationship wouldn't work. They were both too busy with their own, separate lives. The fact that Ratchet hated politics didn't help. Both of them were still friends. Still, Sasha had moved on and had started dating a guy who had a bit more time for her. More importantly, he wasn't 'Secret Agent Clank's chauffeur', which kept Sasha's father happy.

His one-off date with Aquagirl hadn't really gone anywhere. While Aquatos was a nice planet, he wasn't too happy about the fact that it was underwater. Especially not after he found out the hard way that seafood didn't agree with a desert-dwelling Lombax's stomach. The whole situation had ended up being _really_ awkward. Aquagirl hadn't called him again, and he hadn't bothered trying to call her. 'Interspecies issues' were the problem once again.

Finally, there was Talwyn. At the beginning, he had flirted with her for a bit; mostly out of curiosity. During their search for Clank, though, he had come to accept that they worked better as friends. She wasn't really looking for a romantic relationship. Her search for her father took a higher priority. Ratchet respected that.

The Lombax sighed, staring out into the distance through Aphelion's cockpit. She was set on autopilot; the surrounding space was free of asteroids and planets.

Clank turned towards his friend.

"Ratchet, is everything all right?" he asked.

"Yeah, everything's fine… aside from the fact that I'm pretty much doomed to being 'just friends' with all the girls in the Universe."

Clank hummed sympathetically. "I am sure that you will find a suitable partner someday."

Ratchet frowned. He switched Aphelion to manual control in order to deter further conversation on the matter. Clank hadn't given wasn't a very helpful answer, but Ratchet didn't really expect his friend to understand. They didn't usually talk about their issues with romance. Besides, Clank, being a holo-vid star, was a magnet for both robot and organic girls.

Then again, Clank had never ended up hanging on to any of his girlfriends for very long, either. The more he thought about it, the more Ratchet realized that maybe Clank had the same problem, too.

This, they could blame on the lifestyle. It was yet another reason to retire.


	3. Light

Disclaimer: Ratchet and Clank and all related characters, locations, and concepts belong to Insomniac Games. All other ideas and characters are my own. I am not a lawyer.

Author's Note:

It's been some time since my last update, mainly because I've had to work on university applications. Filling them out is draining. This oneshot took me a bit longer to write, too; it's the longest one I have here so far.

In other news, I haven't really gotten any reviews so far, which is a bit unsettling. I think I have a fairly good handle on grammar, but I'm not sure if my writing is actually any good. I know that there's room for improvement. It would be great to get some feedback! I'd be happy with even just a few words. Don't be afraid of being harsh, either.

(EDIT: I've gotten some reviews now, for which I am deeply grateful. The request for feedback still stands, though.)

Basically, any reviews are appreciated!

Chapter summary: Ratchet's stuck in a dream again. For once, instead of being assaulted by enemies, he encounters a friend. Set during _A Crack in Time_; watch out for spoilers. May contain some allusions to _Size Matters_.

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><p>3. Light<p>

Ratchet opened his eyes. For a moment, he didn't think that they were actually open. It was hard to see anything, given how dark his surroundings were. He tried taking out his wrench, and realized, to his dismay, that all of his weapons had vanished. The best course of action would be to wait, then. Ratchet blinked as his eyes adjusted to the darkness around him. The tunnel was mostly silent, save for the sound of water dripping, and maybe a faint humming noise. It smelled of rust and earth; he was probably underground.

Shapes began to emerge from the shadows, illuminated by bits of light that streamed through cracks in the ceiling. Ratchet realized that he was actually in a tunnel. Once he decided that he could trust his feet, he stood up. He noticed that ceiling was too high for him to touch, and that the ground was uneven under his feet.

Ratchet didn't know what he was doing there. His mind drew a blank when he tried to remember how he had gotten to the tunnel in the first place. The last thing that he could remember was being fired at. That wasn't much of a clue, though; hardly a day went by when somebody didn't try to kill him. It was part of the job description.

_Where am I?_ he thought. _Did Vorselon manage to knock me out and throw me in here?_

Ratchet reached out and touched the wall nearest to him, trying to see if there was any possibility of breaking out. His hand passed through it, as if the wall were only a hologram. It tingled. He withdrew his hand, but then reached out again, curiosity overcoming caution. The second time he touched the wall, it was solid.

Then, it dawned on him. He was in his subconscious. _That_ was why he couldn't remember anything. He'd been here, or someplace like here, before; back when he had been knocked out by the Technomites. He'd probably taken a few hits too many and gone out like a light.

The last time he had been in his subconscious, it had been downright nightmarish. He'd been attacked on an operating table and pursued by giant laser eyeballs. Familiar people had become dangerous enemies. At one point, his weapons had turned into butterflies. All in all, it hadn't been fun. Thankfully, the last time that he had been in his subconscious, Clank had pulled him out.

Ratchet remembered, with a pang, that Clank had been kidnapped.

_Looks like this time, I've got to find my way out myself._

At least the dreamscape was calm, this time. The fact that he was in a tunnel was some consolation, too. He didn't run the risk of falling from platforms. Still, it was dark. Ratchet turned around, searching for a source of light. He spotted some phosphorescent goo on one side of the tunnel farther up. The goo continued down the tunnel as far as he could see. He began to follow it. It was worth a shot. At least then, he could see where he was going.

As Ratchet trudged down the tunnel, he noticed that it branched off in places. He kept following the main tunnel—following the glowing goo—but soon grew curious. Some of the tributaries were brighter, almost as if they could lead him aboveground. Others were darker, with strange sounds coming from deep inside them. At one point, when he looked down a tunnel, he spotted some movement on the ground.

Against his better judgement, Ratchet entered the smaller tunnel. It was probably a bad idea; he half-expected to encounter Qwark wielding a chainsaw. Instead, he found himself swarmed by miniature Agorians. They were tiny—only reaching up to his ankle—and they swarmed and attacked him like Tetramites. Ratchet tried crushing them underfoot. They evaded him. In a flash, they turned into butterflies and flew away.

_Great_, Ratchet thought. _Why is it always butterflies?_

Ratchet sighed. He was having another one of _those_ dreams. The Lombax turned back and continued down the main tunnel.

After what seemed like ten minutes of walking—but which could have been five seconds or an hour—Rathet came to a fork in the tunnel. The goo, which had made its way to the ceiling, faded away where the tunnel separated. Ratchet paused in front of the fork. The tunnels were both the same size.

Clearly, he had to choose which way to go. He wondered if it really mattered. One of the paths was dark, while a brilliant light streamed from the other. Ratchet was inexplicably drawn to the darkness. Funny. Normally, you'd want to go towards the light, but this time…

"Ratchet?"

The Lombax jumped at the voice. It came from the darker tunnel.

"I've been waiting a long time to see you," the voice continued. It was deep and warm, and almost familiar, though Ratchet didn't remember ever having heard it before.

The shadows in the darker tunnel stirred, and another Lombax emerged. He was almost a spitting image of Ratchet, even having the same fur and eye colour. The only things that seemed to differentiate the two were the stripes that ran down the elder Lombax's cheeks.

"_You, my dear boy, look just like your father."_

Suddenly, it all became clear. Ratchet's eyes widened.

"D-Dad?"

The word felt strange in his mouth; Ratchet didn't know if he had ever used it before.

Kaden nodded. "Hello, son," he said.

Ratchet blinked. They stared at each other in silence for a moment. Kaden looked pretty much exactly as he had on the picture that Alister had shown him. His armour was similar to Alister's, too. Ratchet also realized that he and his father weren't completely identical; Kaden's face actually looked a bit different from Ratchet's. Kaden had a more pronounced chin, and a few more wrinkles. Still, the similarities were there.

"You know," Kaden said, "I had a different name in mind for you. Now that I think about it, though, 'Ratchet' suits you better… Hello? Ratchet?"

Ratchet realized that he was gaping like a beached Drophyd. He closed his mouth.

"Oh, sorry," Ratchet said. "I'm just a bit… weirded out— no, I… Hold on."

Ratchet looked down and rubbed his forehead. When he looked back up, Kaden was still there, looking at him with some concern.

_Okay,_ Ratchet thought,_ so he's real. As real as you can get in this place, anyway. _

Ratchet had so many questions, there were so many things he wanted to say. It was all a bit overwhelming. He blinked, reminding himself that this was all a dream. He didn't have a reason to be surprised. Besides, soon, he'd wake up and probably forget that all of this had happened.

"Just because this is a dream," Kaden said, "doesn't mean that it isn't actually happening."

It was as if he was reading Ratchet's mind. Maybe he was. This was the one place where anything was possible.

Ratchet tapped his chin, trying to gather his thoughts together. Finally, he settled on something to say.

"Can you tell me about the Lombaxes? I've got a lot of questions. Alister's told me some stuff, but he's keeping a lot of secrets…"

A strange look flitted across Kaden's face for an instant, before being replaced by a smile.

"You'll find out soon enough, son. For now, you've got more pressing matters, I think. Anyway, you've got to take the other path."

He pointed down the illuminated tunnel. Ratchet stared down it, but then looked back up at Kaden. He couldn't shake the thought that his father wasn't telling him something.

"Hold on," Ratchet said, "you're leaving?"

"I've wasted too much of your time already. You have many matters to take care of, and you'll find out everything you need to know in due time."

Kaden's voice had the intonation of someone talking about groceries or the weather. Ratchet fumed inwardly, trying not to let his frustration show. Was anybody _ever_ going to give him a straight answer?

"Is it too much to ask for a little _advice_?"

Ratchet paused, realizing how harsh he had sounded. He looked up at his father. The forced grin on Kaden's face was gone. In its place was a weary expression, one that made Kaden look like he had gone to the end of the universe and back.

"It's not going to be easy," Kaden said. He sighed. "I can't tell you much about what lies ahead without causing a time paradox. I can tell you one thing, though. The past must stay as it is. You must keep everything _as it is_. That is of vital importance."

"Why—" Ratchet started, confused, before Kaden interrupted.

"I can't tell you any more. Just trust me, and _remember_. Now, we're out of time. You've got to go. Good luck, my son."

"Will I ever see you again?" Ratchet asked. "Well… uh… you know, not _see_ you, but…"

Kaden laughed, resting a hand on his son's shoulder. "Just because you don't see me, doesn't mean I'm not always there." He pointed to Ratchet's chest, where his heart would be. "I'm your father, and I'm a part of you. That's what counts."

He turned around and began to walk away, his form fading at the edges.

"Wait, I—"

It was too late. Kaden had faded away, back into the shadows from which he had come. Ratchet still had questions. Maybe he'd ask them another time. If there was another time. He turned towards the illuminated tunnel, but took a step back when he spotted two floating shapes approaching. There was a flash of light. Suddenly, he saw Clank in front of him. The robot was swatting at some strange creatures with some sort of staff. Ratchet leaned closer to the scene, trying to figure out where Clank was.

"We will help you find him," a chorus of voices said.

The vision faded to reveal two Zoni floating in front of him. They disintegrated into two streaks of blue energy, which swooped down and dissolved into his chest, at the same spot where his father had touched him. Into his heart.

_Good_, Ratchet thought. _I'll need all the help I can get_.

His resolve renewed, Ratchet strode towards the light.


	4. Dark

Disclaimer: Ratchet and Clank and all related characters, locations, and concepts belong to Insomniac Games. All other ideas and characters are my own. I am not a lawyer.

Author's Note:

I should really be doing schoolwork right now. Still, one can only endure so many tests and essays and assignments before breaking down and writing angsty fanfiction. Beware potentially convoluted verb tenses; I've been doing a lot of work in French lately, and sometimes that carries over into my English writing. Emotions are a challenge for me to write, too, but I tried to play with them a bit here anyway.

Many thanks to all those who have taken the time to write reviews; they are very much appreciated! I'm always looking for ways to improve my writing.

Chapter summary: Ratchet's stuck on a planet in the middle of nowhere, and he can't sleep. Spoilers for _A Crack in Time._

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><p>4. Dark<p>

The night sky was cloudless, yet dim.

Most of the stars were hidden by thick clouds of dust and gas The few of them that were visible in this part of the universe could be counted on one hand. They seemed to burn half-heartedly, as if they were expecting to go supernova at any moment.

Ratchet lay on the ground, on his side. He hadn't been able to fall asleep in Aphelion's cockpit. The ship had suggested that he try sleeping outside instead, thinking that maybe the sounds of nature would lull him to sleep.

The hypercrickets had been chirping earlier, but their singing had died down. Ratchet's ears twitched. Now, he could only hear the faint hum of Aphelion in standby mode.

The Lombax rolled over onto his other side. He closed his eyes, trying to relax even though he knew that sleep wasn't going to come to him anytime soon. Ratchet sighed, and opened his eyes to stare at the ground beside him. There was grass, just like on Veldin, but this grass had a sharper smell. The smell tickled his nose. He tried to resist the urge to sneeze.

Ratchet sneezed anyway.

The Lombax shifted, trying to find a spot where the grass wasn't in his face. He didn't want to lie on his back and face the dark, empty sky. He couldn't bear to look at it—not when the emptiness only served to remind him of what he was missing.

Things were different when Clank wasn't around. Ratchet needed to be extra careful in battles, now that nobody was around to watch his back. It made him nervous; he was used to having Clank warn him when someone was attacking him from behind. Aphelion did what she could, but she couldn't follow him everywhere. They kept in touch through the radio when necessary, though neither of them ever had much to say.

Ratchet sneezed again. The smell of the grass was getting too strong to bear. He sighed, and finally rolled over onto his back.

Ratchet looked up at the sky. Its emptiness was striking; the sky was a sea of blankness punctuated by a few dim, reddish stars. He focused on one of the stars, realizing that he had no idea what its name was. The constellations on this planet were completely different from anything back home. He was grateful for Aphelion's star maps. If not for her help, he would have gotten lost a long time ago.

Still, Ratchet was lost in another sense. He was at a loss for what to do. What could he do? For a while, Talwyn had helped him search for Clank. Eventually, though, she had left with Cronk and Zephyr to search for her father. Ratchet didn't blame her for that; he could understand that she wanted to find her family. He respected her decision, even if he wasn't entirely happy with it.

Shortly after Talwyn had left, Qwark had suddenly decided that he was in the mood for some adventure. Aphelion had convinced Ratchet to let him tag along, thinking that the Lombax needed some more company. Ratchet regretted having allowed her to convince him. So far, Qwark had been nothing but trouble. All the little mishaps notwithstanding, the so-called 'superhero' had now managed to get _kidnapped_. Ratchet was forced to put his search on hold to go rescue Qwark. As annoying as he was, Ratchet wouldn't let him _die_.

Actually, if Qwark hadn't been kidnapped, Ratchet wouldn't have had any idea about what to do next. He'd come to a dead end. The Zoni weren't giving him any clues, and Ratchet still had trouble shaking the feeling that they were evil in some way.

Ratchet stared up at the dark sky again, searching for something, anything that would give him a clue…

"Ratchet," Aphelion asked, "is everything all right?"

Her sensors must have picked up the fact that he was still awake. Aphelion never needed to sleep, so she spent the night watching over Ratchet. He appreciated the gesture, but he didn't want the ship to worry about him.

"I'm fine," Ratchet said.

He shifted his gaze to another of the dying stars. Aphelion knew that he was lying.

"I miss him, too," she said.

Ratchet blinked, trying to stop his eyes from filling with tears. He swallowed.

"I won't give up 'till I find him."

"I know," Aphelion said.

A meteorite flashed across the sky, illuminating it for a brief instant. Ratchet settled into the grass, trying to get comfortable. He sighed.

It was going to be a long night.


	5. Seeking Solace

Disclaimer: Ratchet and Clank and all related characters, locations, and concepts belong to Insomniac Games. All other ideas and characters are my own. I am not a lawyer.

Author's Note:

I keep writing ACIT!Ratchet, and I don't know why. Well, I threw some Alister Azimuth in there too, for good measure. I'm a sucker for backstory, and ACIT gave me a lot to work with.

Alister's character is a bit tricky to write. Oh well, I tried.

As always, feedback is greatly appreciated! It helps me remember that I'm not just some nutjob at a keyboard. (Though I still am just some nutjob at a keyboard on occasion.)

Chapter summary: When Ratchet worries about Clank, Alister realizes how similar he is to Kaden. Spoilers for _A Crack in Time_

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><p>5. Seeking Solace<p>

Ratchet followed Alister down the dark cave. It was quiet, save for the disconcerting noise the water made as it dripped from the stalactites that hung from the ceiling. He'd been in plenty of creepy places before, but there were some things that you just couldn't get used to. Ratchet decided to break the silence, voicing some of his immediate thoughts to pass the time.

"I wonder where Clank is now, or if…"

The Lombax named Alister Azimuth tried not to roll his eyes as Ratchet launched into another tirade about the robot. By now, he had lost track of the number of times that Ratchet had brought Clank up in conversation. Alister could relate somewhat to the younger Lombax's situation; he knew what it was like to lose a friend, after all. Still, Ratchet acted as if everything would be fine and dandy as soon as he was reunited with that robot. He could somehow completely disregard the fact that an entire species, _their _species, had disappeared.

Despite Ratchet's clear lack of perspective, Alister would console him all the same. He was Kaden's son, after all. Alister was compelled to take care of him.

"…do you think I'll ever find him?" Ratchet finished.

It bothered Alister that Ratchet seemed more upset by the loss of one robot than by the loss of an entire species. Still, Alister had to cheer him up, somehow.

"Of course you will, my boy," Alister said, slowing his pace so that he could pat Ratchet's shoulder. "I'm sure we'll find your friend." _And then we'll go to the Great Clock and set things straight_, he failed to add.

Because changing time would mean that Ratchet and Clank would never have met.

Alister had brought up that idea earlier, and earned a negative response when he had touched upon the potential consequences. Now was not the time to mention it again. He needed to earn the younger Lombax's trust. Kaden had once joked about how if he had any children, Alister would be the godfather. They had been kids then—even younger than Ratchet—but Alister had been honoured all the same. Now, Alister felt a need to live up to the role bestowed upon him by his best friend.

When they emerged in a small clearing, Alister motioned for them to take a break. He sat down on the ground.

"You know," Alister started, motioning for Ratchet to sit down beside him, "Kaden would be proud of you for what you're doing right now."

The younger Lombax nodded, and took a seat. Patting his wrench, a gesture that seemed to bring him reassurance, Ratchet looked up.

"Could you tell me more about my dad?" Ratchet said.

"As I said before," Alister said, "Kaden was a brilliant Lombax. Take that cryo-mine glove that you carry: did you know that your father was the one who invented it?"

Ratchet pulled out the weapon in question, and examined it as Alister spoke.

"Your father was never one for excessive violence where it wasn't necessary, and he found his way out of tricky situations mainly by means of strategy. The cryo-mine glove helped with that." Alister paused. "Not that Kaden wouldn't fight for what he thought was right. He was a Lombax who valued his honour, and the honour of his friends."

Alister chuckled, then continued.

"Kaden was proud—perhaps a bit too proud sometimes—but his pride was also what made him such a good friend. Harm one of his friends, and watch out, because he'd rather die than let you get away with such a thing. Ratchet, the fact that you're going to such great lengths to save your friend is what once again proves to me that you are indeed your father's son."

Ratchet's expression lightened. Alister smiled inwardly, happy to see that he was helping.

"Another thing," the elder Lombax continued, tapping Ratchet's wrench with one of his knuckles. "Did you know that Kaden always carried a wrench similar to yours? Here, take a look."

Alister pulled out his watch, which he hadn't properly shown to Ratchet before. He handed it to the younger Lombax. Ratchet held it as if it were made of glass.

"He… he looks just like me," Ratchet whispered, peering at the photograph of his father. "And… his wrench."

It looked exactly like an Omniwrench 8000, a model which he had carried at one point.

"Wait a minute," Ratchet said, hit by sudden realization.

He still kept his old wrench around, for sentimental reasons, though he'd never admit to the fact. It _was_ his first wrench, after all. Scanning through his arsenal, Ratchet finally found it, and extracted it from the hyperspace in which it was contained. He needed to check something.

There. Though the base was scuffed, he could still see the letters scratched carefully into the metal.

_KADEN._

Now he knew what the word meant.

"So, my first wrench… actually belonged to my dad."

Alister chuckled. "You really are your father's son, Ratchet."

Ratchet stood up, determination in his eyes. He stowed away the older wrench and took out the newer, custom-built model, tossing it in the air and catching it.

"Well, if I'm really my father's son, then I've gotta go find Clank. My dad would do whatever it took to protect his friends, and so will I."

Alister sighed, then followed Ratchet. Off to search for that robot again. It seemed that the Lombax species would have to wait.

Still, as he slid the watch back into his pocket, Alister realized that he could empathize. He knew how much it hurt to lose a friend.


	6. Break Away

Disclaimer: Ratchet and Clank and all related characters, locations, and concepts belong to Insomniac Games. All other ideas and characters are my own. I am not a lawyer.

Author's Note:

Here's the sixth oneshot, in which I finally write a character other than Ratchet. I'm surprised I didn't write Clank earlier, actually, since he's the character that I relate to most.

As usual, reviews are appreciated!

Chapter Summary: At the Great Clock, Clank has trouble deciding whether he should stay or go. Set during _A Crack in Time_, so beware of spoilers.

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><p>6. Break Away<p>

Clank was a robot. Being such a logical entity, he did not usually have trouble making decisions. Most decisions could be parsed in such a way that finding the better choice was a simple matter of finding the more logical choice. Doing that was easy enough.

Still, decisions did not usually involve the fate of a lifelong friendship, or the fate of the Universe, for that matter.

To his dismay, Clank was unable to decide which was more important.

On one side was the Great Clock, which had been left to him by his now probably-deceased father. On the other side was his closest friend, who had abandoned the pursuit of his family in order to search for him.

Which had the higher priority, then?

Logic dictated that he stay with the Great Clock. Orvus had designed him to take care of it, after all, and it was an integral part of the Universe. Since Clank had inherited the Clock from his father, keeping time and repairing paradoxes had become his responsibility. Judging by how the Zoni referred to him as 'sire', Clank presumed that he was also meant, in some way, to lead them. That was his purpose. That was what he had been built to do.

Then again, Clank supposed that in the two years of Orvus' absence, Sigmund had taken good care of the Clock. Or had he? Apart from the fact that Dr. Nefarious had taken over, the Clock was in fairly good shape. All the damage that had been done by the hypersonic brain wave scrambler could be easily fixed. The clock's current state of disrepair was therefore not Sigmund's fault. Or was it?

Emotion was not usually a factor that Clank considered when making decisions, but in this case, it was non-trivial. Clank had known Ratchet for his entire life. Although the Lombax had stayed with him only grudgingly at first, they had soon become best friends. It was no small matter that in searching for Clank, Ratchet had abandoned his search for the Lombaxes, and therefore, for his own family. Evidently, Clank was an important part of the Lombax's life; family in his own right.

Still, perhaps Clank needed to find his own path.

Clank did not know what to do. To delay the moment at which he would need to decide, he occupied himself with repairing even the slightest damage to the Great Clock. Only time would tell if he could become habituated to a life working there, but he considered it an acceptable task for the moment.

The decision haunted him nevertheless, looming over him. Would he follow the tradition upheld by his family, or go help his friend? Or was Ratchet his family? Clank sighed. He was unaccustomed to such doubt and uncertainty. Normally, he made the most logical decision, and stood by it. If the wrong decision was made, he could store the information from his mistake and learn from it. Now, however, he was unable to decide. Logic gave way to emotion, and though Clank was a robot, his emotions were as complex as those of any organic being.

Clank found himself wishing that he could escape. He found himself wishing that he could be free from emotion; free from the burden of having a soul.

How could he say that? The fact that he possessed a soul was a gift.

Still, the feeling of uncertainty lingered. Until he made a decision, Clank supposed that he would have to default to stagnation.

So he stayed at the Great Clock, and waited for Ratchet to make the next move.


	7. Heaven

Disclaimer: Ratchet and Clank and all related characters, locations, and concepts belong to Insomniac Games. All other ideas and characters are my own. I am not a lawyer.

Author's note:

I've upped the rating on this fic because this chapter deals with some heavy topics. Expect discussion of death, causality, and possibly a bit of morality.

Originally, the fic was going to have some relevance to the prompt, but now, the it's only relevant if you think of it in an ironic sense. (I think it's ironic, at any rate. Correct me if I'm wrong, since nobody seems to know what irony is anymore. Myself included.)

I wrote this with the intention of being religiously neutral, so hopefully it comes across as such. Nevertheless, I apologize if I offend anyone with religious sensibilities with some of the metaphors here; I try to be sensitive about these sorts of things. I respect that people have differing views, and they all have the right to them. (If you really want to know, I'm an agnostic atheist, but I try not to let that influence my writing.)

Note that this includes copious amounts of headcanon that probably doesn't fit with any of my other work, but I've tried to make it self-consistent. I like Orvus and think he's a nice guy, though that may not be as apparent here. Then again, his way of thinking is very alien to us, so I tried to convey that.

Anyway, reviews are appreciated! I hope that this is readable and that I haven't scared everyone off by now.

Chapter Summary: The Fongoids fouled time travel up, but how did they get so far as to put the Universe in jeopardy? Spoilers for _A Crack in Time_.

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><p>7. Heaven<p>

The day that Orvus gives the Fongoids the gift of time travel is the day that he becomes God.

Not literally, of course. He stands by the decision he made long ago to neither confirm nor deny the existence of any supernatural beings. There are some things better left as mysteries.

Still, to the Fongoids, he may as well be a deity. Orvus can play the role well enough, at any rate. The innate Zoni powers he possesses are impressive from the perspective of a non-quantum being, he supposes. He sometimes forgets how he is perceived by beings other than the Zoni.

The Fongoids fear him. They are grateful, yes, but the chief will only accept the gift under one condition.

He asks Orvus not to interfere unless he is explicitly asked to do so.

Orvus agrees. He can see how the Fongoids, as a less advanced species, want the chance to figure things out on their own. The journey is as important as the destination.

He shows up from time to time, but finds that he takes no small amount of pleasure in being a mystery, himself. The Fongoids take his lack of frequent appearances as a sign of his "mysterious ways," and praise him on the rare occasion that he does make an appearance.

Orvus likes the Fongoids. They are a kind and hardworking people, which was why he selected them for the gift of time travel in the first place. He is certain that they will use it well. 

A millennium later, and Orvus is fairly confident that he has made the right decision.

Of course, there is some disorganization, at first. He expected as much. Fongoid society is a little behind relative to the Universal norm, and it is only natural for it to have some growing pains as it adapts to new technology. The economy collapses a few times, as economies are wont to do. Several conferences are held by Fongoid leaders to negotiate new laws in light of the sudden changes.

The net effect is positive, though. He finds that by forcing the leaders of the different Fongoid tribes to cooperate, the result is immediate world peace. Centuries-old blood feuds are resolved in an instant.

People are happier, too, since they can easily fix their everyday mistakes. Yes, they have a vague recollection of someone telling them not to do that. Still, travelling back in time to remind oneself of one's wedding anniversary never killed anyone, did it? Nobody talks about it but everyone does it. Having a few paradoxes in one's personal spacetime trajectory becomes the norm. 

Around 1500 years after T-day, as the Fongoids had come to call it, Orvus notes that things are starting to go amiss.

Society has progressed rapidly as a result of the extra time that the Fongoids now have. Fongoid researchers spend days working on a project, only to travel back in time and spend those same days working alongside their past selves in order to achieve measurable results at a faster pace.

More is being demanded of Fongoid workers now that they have unlimited time on their hands. The average amount of working-hours on Torren IV is now equivalent to the span of a day. It is assumed that Fongoids can use time-travel to catch up on sleep, but the process leaves them weary.

Something of a population problem is starting to emerge as Fongoids are forced to co-inhabit with their present/past/future selves. At the same time, the average lifespan is shortening because the Fongoids spend their whole lives living the same few hours over and over in order to get things done. The birthrate has plunged as well, since people are becoming too absorbed in their own, convoluted timelines to interact properly with other people.

Orvus waits. Nobody asks him to intervene. 

2000 years after the day everything changed, regulations are being put into place.

The Fongoids realize, wisely enough, that they are being irresponsible. A licensing system is created, putting restrictions on which people are granted access to quantum energy. Minors are not given the privilege of time travel until they are fully aware of the dangers of doing so. Those who are not of sound mind are kept in a linear timeline to prevent the possibility of doing harm to themselves or others. Daily time travel limits are imposed in order to alleviate the problem of sudden ageing experienced relative to the linear timeline in which the rest of the Universe lives.

The majority of the Fongoids follow the regulations with little fuss.

It is all good and sensible, Orvus thinks. Perhaps the Fongoids no longer need his help. They are doing reasonably well on their own.

Now, they seem largely unaware of his existence. The few statues of him that remain are hidden in abandoned caves, tucked away from the eyes of most. Those who witness his brief forays onto the planet say nothing. Most people don't remember the old legends anymore. Few Fongoids are interested in history. How ironic that a society, granted the ability to travel in time, has become so fixated with the present.

It makes some sense. Given the ubiquity of time travel, despite the new regulations, the present is becoming a precious commodity. 

2500 years have passed, and things are starting to heat up.

The technological developments are staggering, but civilization is unable to catch up. Inter-tribe relations have never been perfect, and old conflicts are coming to the surface again. With the present level of technology, the conflict escalates faster than it would have in the past.

As a society, the Fongoids have regressed to the state in which they were almost three millennia ago, except that this time instead of spears and bows, they have guns and missiles. Diplomats struggle to negotiate as governments make demands without realizing how unrealistic the demands are, given the present circumstances. Society is having growing pains.

Most of all, the Fongoids fail to see that although they can travel through time, they are not immortal.

Orvus knows this, but does nothing, as promised. 

2900 years after the most significant day, the Fongoids are at a nuclear stalemate.

Panic sets in as Fongoids emerge from brief jaunts into the future, driven away by the barren landscape they've seen. Nobody has any idea about the event's whenabouts, since nobody would be able to witness it and emerge alive. People no longer travel to the future; they are afraid of doing so. Yet they cannot avoid their natural forward motion through time of one second per second forever.

Negotiations are held, tentative treaties are signed, but in the growing panic, rational thought is hard to come by and there isn't enough to go around. The impending apocalypse seems inevitable.

Philosophers and scientists argue about causality, unable to come to an agreement since neither side can agree about which side should think about the idea in the first place. The most valid hypotheses have the least support, since nobody wants to bet on a hopeless future. Instead of claiming the validity of their conclusions, each side attempts to shirk the responsibility of announcing the final answer to the public.

The truth is, no matter what they do to stop it, armageddon will find a way to happen.

Nobody cries out to Orvus for help. 

About 3000 years after T-day, the planet is barren.

The few survivors who are left subsist from day to day on what little food they can find. Most hide in understocked shelters, sardonically placing bets on who will be next to succumb to radiation sickness. They cling to life, woefully unprepared for the aftermath of a disaster that, until recently, they had denied.

It turns out that you can't change the future if you've already seen it.

Still, Orvus does not interfere. It pains him to do nothing—prevents from sleeping, if one can call what he does sleeping—but he cannot allow himself to do anything. All he can do is weep for the loss of the civilization he cared for.

The Fongoids have destroyed themselves, reversed the effects of three millennia of time-travel-aided development in a fraction of a second.

What he does not notice is that one of the surviving Fongoids has harnessed enough quantum energy to commit a final act. An act that, though noble in intention, has consequences that would shake the foundations of spacetime. The Fongoid is intelligent, and has a well-thought out plan that, if carried out, would fix everything.

So, of course, the Fongoid decides to go for it.

It is then that Orvus learns that the actions of one individual, though rarely significant on a greater scale, can occasionally have an impact that can tear the fabric of the Universe.

In the past, Orvus discouraged paradoxes, but allowed them to slip through since their net impact was rarely more significant than a wrinkle in the fabric of spacetime. He did not expect anything as terrible as this to happen. The Fongoids' nuclear self-destruction was tragic, but in eliminating that event, they trigger an even greater tragedy.

Eighty-three celestial entities are destroyed.

Loath as he is to go back on his word, Orvus concludes that he has no choice. He appears in front of the highest Fongoid authorities, who are now alive again, at a cost far too great to contemplate. They are shocked, since they have completely forgotten about Orvus' existence.

Orvus explains himself, calmly, uncaring of whether or not the Fongoids believe him. He tells them that he will eliminate their ability to travel through time; an ability which they have abused to the point that it put the spacetime continuum in jeopardy. Something remains of the Fongoids' racial memory, since they listen to him, dumbstruck by awe.

He advises them to abandon technology. A Fongoid speaks up, questioning the necessity of doing so. Orvus decides to show him.

In a flash, they are suspended in a spacetime bubble, teleporting from exploding planet to exploding planet. He does not need to explain; the horrified understanding on their faces is plain enough.

Orvus drops off the Fongoids, leaving them to pick up the pieces of their shattered utopia. Then, he departs forever. His remorse is such that the other Zoni can detect it, even though he tries to shield it from them. They struggle to console him-them-themselves, but ultimately withdraw from him when the pain becomes too much for them to handle. He does not blame them.

Orvus is not a god. He is not perfect. He makes mistakes, because even he can never be fully aware of all possible ramifications of his actions. That is not a role for him to fill. He does not know if there is any entity that could possibly fill it. That, he supposes, is something that will remain as mysterious to him as it would to anyone else.

He does what he can, to tend to his ripped Universe, and mend the tears in its fabric before it falls to pieces. He must repair the damage that he has done.

Orvus leaves the Universe one final gift, before vowing never to interfere again.


	8. Innocence

Disclaimer: Ratchet and Clank and all related characters, locations, and concepts belong to Insomniac Games. All other ideas and characters are my own. I am not a lawyer.

Author's note:

I'm being a bit slow with posting right now since I've started school. My schedule's a bit hectic. (I have not one, but two math courses.) Expect slower updates as I try not to fail.

(I'm still working on my other fic, for the record, but I'm currently editing the next chapter. Oneshots are quicker, since there's less continuity to worry about. But yeah, I'm not on hiatus; I'm just a bit slow.)

Now, it's been years since I've played _Secret Agent Clank_, but it seemed to fit the prompt. There may be some inconsistencies with the plot of the game. I like to stay close to canon, for the most part (at least, plausibly close) so go ahead and let me know if anything is terribly inconsistent. I don't spoil SAC entirely here, but there are some hints pertaining to its plot, so beware.

Now that I've whined about my workload and abused parentheses, I'd better shut up and get on with the fic. Well, not before begging for reviews.

As usual, reviews are appreciated! Thanks to everyone who has reviewed so far.

Chapter Summary: Ratchet thinks he's innocent, but is he fooling himself? May contain traces of spoilers for _Secret Agent Clan__k._ Contains some swearing.

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><p>8. Innocence<p>

Nobody believed Ratchet when he said he hadn't done anything wrong. _He_ thought he'd been unfairly arrested, but who would listen to the ramblings of a suspected thief?

He was more than a suspected thief, too. Even he had to admit that the evidence against him was pretty convincing. The fact that he didn't have a proper alibi didn't help his case.

To tell the truth, he had no idea what he'd been up to during the robbery. No memory. Zip. Zilch. Nada. Despite his misgivings, he decided that it was still better to pretend that he'd stolen the jewel—the Eye of Infinity, as it was called—even if he had no idea what he'd been doing at the time.

_No, shit._ If he claimed to be innocent, the other prisoners would think he was weak, and they'd beat him to a pulp.

The one thing he could be sure of was that prison was no cakewalk.

Ratchet roughed it out, putting on his best don't-mess-with-me act, walking with his head held high and his tail raised. Even as he suffered the indignities of prison, he still kept up the charade. His reputation preceded him. Many of the other prisoners were there because Ratchet had caught them himself. He'd obliterated entire armies with barely any backup. If he'd survived DreadZone, then prison should be a cakewalk.

Still, it was a bit harder to be confident when you were thrown into a prison for something that you wouldn't have done, and that you didn't remember doing.

The first day had been the worst. The last thing he remembered was brushing his teeth, and then, nothing. It had been a shock. A baton had poked Ratchet awake, and he'd found himself in a prison cell, with no clue how he'd gotten there. He'd looked up at the ceiling, which was a lot higher up than usual, rolled over on the lumpy and uncomfortable cot, and looked around to find himself facing an overly-cheerful but easily-bribed warden. Unfortunately for Ratchet.

None of his friends had been in the cell with him, either. That had been a bit unsettling. Usually, whenever he was trapped or thrown into a holding cell or stranded on an unfamiliar planet, he had at least one friend—or _acquaintance_, in Qwark's case—with him. This time, there were plenty of familiar faces around, but they were the faces of people he'd thrown into prison.

The court case had been his one chance to avoid imprisonment, but it hadn't gone well. All the defences he had thought up for himself were based mostly on his lack of motive. Why would he steal a jewel? He had plenty enough bolts to live off. Besides, he'd barely even heard of the Eye of Infinity before it had become the reason for him being stuck in jail. Still, those arguments didn't hold up in court when they showed him the tapes. Nobody believed him when he said that he would never do anything like that.

It didn't matter how you phrased it, _my body's acquired a will of its own_ was a terrible argument.

As things turned out, pleading guilty was the way to go. The prosecution had evidence against him. If he couldn't escape the charges, he could at least get away with a slightly milder sentence.

Of course, he'd still been left here, in this dark, smelly cell. He'd been left to harass others or be attacked, fight or be crushed; trapped in the mind games typical of a prison setting.

_Mind games_ was right, too, since he was pretty sure the prison was doing something with his head. There were gaps in his memory, times when he couldn't remember what he'd been doing before, times that felt like he'd just woken up from a deep sleep. Yet everyone else acted as if he'd been awake for the whole time.

Maybe he should've pleaded insanity. As much as he didn't like the idea, he couldn't help but think that being in jail was getting to him, just a little. The sooner he got out and found out exactly what had happened, the better.

Ratchet hadn't committed the crime of his own free will. Or had he? He couldn't remember now, but he was getting flashes of half-remembered memories, and some of what he'd seen in the videos started to seem familiar. He could've been caught, and someone could've hit him on the head which would've made him forget… But no, surely he wouldn't have stolen that jewel willingly. He wouldn't have. Would he?

There was video evidence.

But surely, he hadn't done that of his own free will.

…Had he?

He hoped that Clank would be able to prove his innocence. Preferably _before_ he managed to convince himself that he was, in fact, guilty.


	9. Drive

Disclaimer: Ratchet and Clank and all related characters, locations, and concepts belong to Insomniac Games. All other ideas and characters are my own. I am not a lawyer.

Author's Note:

Wow, okay, I realize that I haven't updated anything in ages. Let it suffice to say that I've had annoying medical stuff going on that has made me less productive in all areas of existence. Anyway, at long last, here's another chapter of _Fragments_, which has been around for long enough that I feel obligated to mention that I thought of the title of this fic back in 2011, long before the Daft Punk song even existed.

Hopefully, I haven't completely forgotten how this whole "writing" thing works. This chapter uses the prompt in a less literal sense, because in my spare time, I like to think I'm clever, or something.

Chapter Summary: Why won't Qwark and Nefarious stop arguing? It's really starting to get on Ratchet's nerves.

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><p>9. Drive<p>

Qwark and Nefarious' bickering was driving Ratchet crazy.

Ever since they'd been forced to work together, the president and the villain had made a point to argue whenever possible. Or that's how it seemed, at least. They disagreed on everything. On the rare occasion that they found themselves in agreement, one of them would suddenly and inexplicably change his mind. They were the exact opposite of cooperative; determined to sabotage each other at every turn.

Ratchet wondered how much of it was actual arguing and how much was disagreeing because they were supposed to be sworn enemies, but he thought it better not to ask. Still, there were times when it really got on his nerves.

Qwark and Nefarious led the way through the forest, arguing all the while. Ratchet didn't know what the latest point of disagreement was, but he didn't want to find out. He hung back so that he didn't have to hear the details.

Until now, Clank had been following closely behind the duo, trying to mediate. It seemed that he'd failed to make any difference, since he now lingered to match his pace with Ratchet's.

"Anything I need to know about?" Ratchet asked, disgruntled.

"Nothing of major importance, no."

Ratchet was grateful that Clank didn't share the details.

"You ever wonder if maybe we'd be better off ditching them?"

Ratchet raised his hands in resignation at Clank's glare. "Kidding, kidding."

Clank narrowed his optics in response. It didn't take a robot as advanced as him to tell that the Lombax was bluffing.

"Okay," Ratchet said, "but seriously, do those two not bug you at all?"

Clank contemplated the question for a moment before answering.

"Their constant arguing grows tedious, I suppose. But I have come to realize that it is simply a defence mechanism."

"Defence mechanism?"

"Qwark and Nefarious see themselves as enemies, and they are unable to believe that they could be anything but that. However, our current circumstances have forced them to interact in a less-than-unfriendly manner. This is only natural, since each of them can see that cooperation is necessary for his own survival, but the cost of that is the survival of his nemesis.

"Of course, Nefarious is not fond of the two of us, but his grudge against Qwark has been going on since they were both in high school. Regardless, since circumstances are forcing them to be almost civil to each other, they believe they must compensate by behaving in an excessively hostile manner towards each other. Hence the constant bickering."

"Makes sense, I guess. Still, that doesn't give us much hope of seeing this stop, does it."

"Some consolation is the fact that so long as we are being attacked, they cannot find the time to do anything other than throw the occasional insult."

"I guess. I'm just glad I'm not stuck alone with them right now."

I'm glad you decided to stick around.

"As am I."


End file.
